Pansy managed something resembling a small smile at Draco's words and gave a small nod of acceptance. It didn't make her feel less terrible about the past, or the present, but she felt as though maybe what she really needed to make herself to feel better about the past was to accept it as it was and allow herself her own forgiveness. Whatever had happened, whatever the reasons, they were here now, right? And, as much as she was loathe to admit it, perhaps the four years they'd had to grow apart would serve to make them better together this time around.
She moved on to the events of tonight, though, as much as she wanted to forget that it had happened. She couldn't forget the way it had felt when the fatal magic had flowed through her wand hand, out of her wand. "Was it childish to think I'd be able to make it through life without ever having to make that choice?" she asked quietly, frowning. It probably was. In this political climate, it was kill or be killed. She knew this and yet she'd been naive enough to think she'd never have to experience that first hand.
There was also a very, very minuscule part of her that had reveled in the control she'd had over the situation, the way she had been in charge of whether or not the man would live long enough to really hurt her. She ignored that, though. She didn't want that to be a part of her.