Once the reality of Michael's words sank in, Lavender could only mutter a useless, "Oh." Luckily, she was not made of stone, and what she lacked in words she made up for in gesture. Silently and stony-faced, she tugged Michael's hands from his knees and held them in her own, giving them a squeeze before she pulled him into a hug. She held onto his hands with one of hers and rubbed his back with the other, trying to form some sort of comforting words but finding very little in her arsenal.
"I'm so sorry, Michael," She said, but that much was a given. The idea that this boy she was hugging was the product of rape was so harrowing that she held him tighter, understanding now why he was acting so afraid. "It doesn't mean you're bad," She said, squeezing her eyes shut in a wince when she realised how it sounded. "That sort of thing is not catching. I'm a firm believer in nurture over nature. He is not a reflection on who you are, not in the slightest. You're one of the most respectful boys I know."