He was pressed against the svelte body of his immediate and trusted Deputy Daphne Greengrass. How he had gotten himself into this position, he couldn't remember. How he had gotten her in this position – flat on her back – he couldn't remember either, and frankly he was astonished he had managed it without getting laid out. That would be violently laid out, not sexually, for if there was one thing Harry knew about the woman who had somehow ended up in his arms, it was that she threw a wicked hex and an even wickeder punch.