BACKFIRED !

By Bellegeste

A/N: Tempted as I was to have Lily savaged by a passing monster, leaving Snape alone and helpless with only the sound of her dying screams in the darkness… this story just isn't THAT dark…

Thanks to everyone who has reviewed - I appreciate all your comments.

Chapter 4:TALKING TOUGH

Underfoot the taut springiness of the heather gave way to something that popped and squelched. Lily's foot slipped sideways, and she stumbled, coming down heavily onto one knee amidst stickiness and prickles. Bilberries! Well, if her shoes weren't shredded by the walk they'd be ruined anyway now - stained purple. Though that was the least of her worries. Ahead and below, the distant disc of the moon shone steadily, remote and detached, reflected from the metallic black ink of the lake, a pale, perfect beacon in the night – her reference point and guide. She would follow the slope down, to the water's edge, and after that…

Snape's parting words were replaying themselves repeatedly in her mind. Not only that final, lonely appeal, but his earlier warnings. Had a Graphorn attack ever been recorded in this part of Scotland? Shivering with more than the cold, Lily picked herself up, casting a fearful glance back over her shoulder and into the silvered shadows of the mountain. Was there anything out there?

Senses alert to the faintest whisper in the darkness, Lily set off again, treading cautiously, wary of falling and perhaps turning an ankle. Then, borne clearly on the night air, came a sound that catapulted her heart into her throat and left it there pulsating, as she stopped her breath. An eerie, tremulous, drumming sound vibrated the stillness, an invisible, ghostly patter in the sky. Lily heaved a huge, slow sigh, blowing out through her mouth, deliberately, forcing herself to stay calm.

Don't be so stupid, Lily Evans. It's a Snipe, it's only a Snipe. Get a grip. You can do this. Don't be so pathetic. What would they all say if they knew you were spooked by a silly bird?

Misled by moonlight into prolonging his evening display, the proud Snipe rose and dropped, whirring, to the lake, oblivious to the trembling human crouching on the slope.

Without a wand, she just felt so incredibly vulnerable. If anything did happen, what could she do? Throw stones? Less confident now, Lily continued on her way. The bird's name had reminded her of Snape and the reason she was there in the first place; she quickened her stride. One shoe was rubbing already; the hem of her skirt kept snagging on thorns and thistles; she could feel a bruise blossoming on her right knee. A straggling line of pine trees lay between her and the lake shore. The tall, triangular shapes loomed towards her, as welcome as a geometry test, and she hesitated to pass into their spiny shade. Pine nuts and the hulls of fallen cones poked painfully into her soft soles, making walking uncomfortable and crunchy. A dry twig suddenly snapped, its pop-gun report ricocheting amongst the tree-trunks like a Crucio-ed Billywig.

Overhead something large clattered in the branches. Lily froze as a heavy, rounded body made a crashing descent through the boughs, landing in the gloom with an ungainly, flapping kafuffle. She couldn't make out what it was, but her heart was again pounding, instantly on red-alert, primed for panic. Should she run now or stand her ground? Don't run away from bears, she thought, wildly. Bears? There hadn't been wild bears in Scotland for hundreds of years. The fear that all this time had been lurking at the back of her mind was swelling into a horrible suspicion. No, it couldn't be. That thing, whatever it was, was too small… But children could get bitten too…

Emitting a belching rattle of a cry, the creature made a sudden rush forwards and Lily dived behind the nearest tree, expecting it to rise up on hideously sinewed legs and leap for her neck. Instead it swelled and strutted on the spot, bustling in small circles and shrieking a series of plosive clucks. As it marched into a slice of moonlight, Lily saw it was a mature, male Capercaillie, normally the size of a full-grown turkey, but twice that now with its feathers fluffed, its rounded wings extended in a pompous show of territorial defence. She must have disturbed it while it was roosting.

Oh, Merlin! Lily's knees wobbled and she leaned for support against the rough bark. This was madness. Utter insanity. If she couldn't fend off a harmless grouse, what chance would she stand against something that was actively hostile? She could run, but that was about all. Snape couldn't even do that…

xxx

Of course, Snape was right. Lily had known that all along. She didn't have the proper equipment, or appropriate clothing, or a map, or even any clear plan as to where she was going. The twinkling stars were awfully pretty, but without knowing which direction she needed to be heading, they were about as much use to her as a goblin in a gift shop. What she proposed was risky, foolhardy and plain, downright stupid. Had she ever seriously intended to walk back to Hogsmeade or Hogwarts, or was it an extravagant gesture? Why had she even suggested it? Because it is what James would have done? Who did she want to impress - Snape or James?

Night-hiking, scrambling down goat tracks, across peat marshes and mud-flats, through gorse and heather, getting covered in scratches and blisters, ruining her clothes, fighting off vicious game-birds - it really wasn't her scene. But that wasn't what had stopped her, had turned her back to retrace her footsteps to the door of the wooden hut. No, it was the thought of Snape alone and unprotected, and the sound of her name shouted to the wind; her name, and the note of anxiety which no actor could have faked.

"You're right," she said bluntly, as if she'd been gone only minutes, coming in and pushing the door closed. "Why should I risk my life for you? You wouldn't do it for me."

In the dim interior it was impossible to tell whether it was relief or scorn shining in Snape's eyes. He was lying in the same position as when she had left him, huddled on the mat, looking cold and pinched.

"But somebody's got to fetch help sometime, and it doesn't look like it's going to be you," Lily went on in full-blown self-justification, expecting him to ridicule her early return, deflating when he didn't.

"At least wait until it's light," he whispered. Was that concern for her safety or mere pragmatism? Her chances of reaching the village would, after all, be higher in daylight. Preoccupied with his motives, she failed to register his next question - he was asking something about landmarks.

"What? Pardon?" Lily clicked to attention, reddening as if she'd been caught out daydreaming in class.

Snape summoned the tone of voice he usually saved for Prefect duty to shrivel the First Years to abject obedience.

"I said, 'Are there any significant landmarks?' Come on, Evans, you've been pioneering about outside, mounting your rescue mission - theoretically - I had assumed that would have made some attempt, however half-baked, to establish your bearings…"

"You're in no position to patronise me, Severus." She rebuked him mildly, distracted, straining to pin down an impression that had flitted inside with her from the darkness and was circling in her mind, battering against her consciousness like a trapped moth - that for all his supposed contempt, Snape was anything but indifferent to her. In stepping back into the hut she had, it seemed, crossed more than one threshold.

"The landscape. Topographical features. Anything of geographical interest. Describe it," he said, quietly authoritative once more.

"What's the point? What difference would it make? We're lost." Lily sighed, cold, hungry and disheartened, hugging herself and chaffing the goose-pimples on her arms.

"Describe it, and I'll tell you which part of the Trail we're on."

It was too dark to read his expression, but Lily did not need to see him to hear the smoothly triumphant note of victory in his voice. Her firework temper flared instantly.

"You bastard! You mean you've known all along? And you let me go out there… you knew it was dangerous! You were going to let me go wandering off completely unprepared… That's so mean! That's downright irresponsible, that's - "

"All right, if you'd rather not know…"

"How could you? You didn't say anything!" Lily stormed.

"You didn't ask!" Snape snapped back. "Damn you, Evans! You came barging in here, accusing me of everything under the sun, without even waiting to hear my side of the story. Go on, assume I'm the villain of the piece! I'm the foul-minded Slytherin, so automatically I'm the one to blame. Is that it? You've not stopped once to think about how I feel. You've no idea. Do you think I want to be stranded up here with you?"

"Don't you?" she volleyed, but she was questioning her complacency. "In case you hadn't noticed, Snape, I've been looking after you."

His figure tensed at the reminder of his dependence, but he snorted a retaliation.

"Only out of some blasted sense of duty. Charitable obligation. If there was anybody else around I wouldn't see you for dust. You'd be back to Potter like a homing pigeon. Admit it - it never even occurred to you that we might work through this problem together."

Snape had shoved her down so far into the wrong that, for a moment, she doubted if she would ever clamber back up onto an equal footing. Once again, he was right. Yet she still didn't trust him. There was a sense that backing off into an apology would be playing onto his hands. Lily was suddenly unsure of herself. She'd thought she'd held all the trump cards, but now she felt she was losing control. She felt strangely as though she were being sucked into some Slytherin mind game, and whatever course of action she decided to take it would be, in the end, precisely what Snape had wanted her to do all along. Even when he was upset - and this time he had some justification, she conceded - he had a confidence, an inner force which unsettled her. She eyed him, undecided, considering her options. If he knew something she didn't - and, let's face it, the odds were he did - it was only logical to pool their resources.

So, illustrating her account with sweeping ovals, ticks and angles in the air, and omitting any mention of wildlife, she described the mountainside, the slope, the curving arm of the lake, the pine trees, the wooded promontory on the far shore, the distant peak away to the north-west…

Snape listened without interrupting, visualising her sketchy picture, comparing her waved jottings with the aerial map in his memory.

"Well?" Either she was about to call his bluff, or they were on the verge of a breakthrough in terms of cooperation and communication.

"Hogsmeade is in that direction." Snape twitched his thumb towards the window. "You said there was a range of hills lying pretty much parallel with this one? You need to cross them - Hogsmeade lies in the valley on the far side. Alternatively - it's less direct, but probably safer - you could follow a route along the edge of the lake, then, once you've rounded the headland, cut south-east and follow the stream - that'll take you to the village. Whichever way you go, it's a long walk."

Lily still couldn't bring herself to forgive him fully for not sharing this knowledge before. It was precisely what she needed, but she wasn't going to fawn over him in gratitude for something he should have told her anyway.

"How do you know all this?" The question had a tinny, suspicious ring.

"You think I'm making it up? Yes, that'd be right. I'm having such a fabulous time here that I'm misleading you on purpose, so I can prolong the pleasure? Give me some credit. Why would I do that?"

No, Lily hadn't been able to answer that one when she'd asked it herself.

"Have you ever thought to ask Potter where he goes when the teams do Fitness Flying?" he said. "Do you fondly imagine that we all spend an entire day circling the grounds and practising loop-the-loops over the Castle? They call it 'endurance training' and that's damn well what it is: hours on a broomstick, crossing different terrain - the idea is, it improves physical stamina and gives you experience of different atmospheric conditions - thermals, pressure variations, varying cloud density, wind-speeds, the moisture content in the air - they all affect how the broom responds. I've flown over this way a couple of times. And so, I imagine, has your darling Potter."

Another dig at James. The evidence against him was accumulating. Lily resented the implied accusation; Snape had no proof. Pursing her lips, she allowed this slur against James to slide past her unchecked.

Lily had got to where she was today - Head Girl of Hogwarts and an outstanding student - thorough a combination of natural talent, beauty and intelligence, along with diligence, kindness, sensitivity and tact. She knew when to fight and when to let things go. Her other qualities were determination and a quiet assertiveness. It was this last attribute that she opted to employ when dealing with Snape.

"I'm freezing! You're going to have to share that cloak," she declared, changing the subject abruptly and sitting down on the mattress next to him - somehow it seemed a permissible liberty now. She carefully avoided any contact. "But don't get any ideas, OK?"

As if! I'm hardly going to jump you like this, now am I?

"Take the damn cloak," he hissed. "Just don't yank it out from under me."

When he was lying there, stoical and uncomplaining, discussing flying techniques, it had been too easy to forget that he was still in acute pain. Lily softened.

"I promise I'm not going to bump into you, or push you. But I don't want you to get cold either. I just need something to put over my legs - my toes are so numb they'll fall off." She shuffled her feet into the warmth. "There, that wasn't so bad, was it? As for anything else - well, don't flatter yourself. Let's get one thing straight, Snape - you're not my type."

"And Potter is?"

"Oh, give over sniping at James! I've had it up to here. What is it with you two? You don't even know him." Was he jealous? Could Snape actually be jealous of James?

"I know enough."

"Listen to yourself! What do you know? James is a nice person. He and Sirius - they're both really nice guys."

"Black? That thoughtless bully? What a poseur!" Snape spat.

"You've got him all wrong. Sirius is… I know he behaves like he's Mr Suave, but that's mostly an act. And James… James is great! We have a good time." How had the conversation become this personal? Was she discussing her relationship with James - with Severus Snape?

"Nice? A good time?" Snape made it sound like a perversion.

"Yes. Fun. Something you wouldn't know about. For goodness' sake, I'm only 'going out' with the bloke - it's not as though we're getting married. James is good company: he's considerate and caring and attractive and brave and reliable…"

"And exciting?" Snape needled her.

Yes, Lily, exciting. Don't look at me like that. You heard me. Does he excite you, Miss Lily Evans? Does your body thrill to his touch? Does he turn you on?

"That's none of your damn business!" Lily threw aside the cloak and leaped up. Flinching involuntarily, Snape jerked away, only to stop with a yelp as white-hot shards sliced through his spine, his sciatic nerves and into every jangling fibre of his body.

"Ahhh! Ow!"

Lily watched him shuddering on the mattress as she let her indignation simmer to a more manageable level. Why had that insinuation made her so furious? Snape sure knew which buttons to press. How had he guessed that James - hunky, honourable, heart-throb James – could also be just a little bit dull?

"You deserved that. Don't expect any sympathy from me," she muttered, tucking the cloak back round Snape and pulling it over her own legs. The strain of their situation had effectively eradicated any chance of a suggestive frisson between them. "And just 'cos I'm here, it doesn't mean I've forgiven you."

After a few minutes of low-boil hostility, she relented.

"That was some move, by the way. It was virtually a Woollongong Shimmy (1)."

"I thought you were coming at me with a Transylvanian Tackle (2)," he responded in kind. There was an unspoken, sporting truce.

"Actually, you're not so bad at Quidditch," Lily commented, thinking back to the last Gryffindor-Slytherin house match at which she had spectated. The banality of the subject helped to tide them over the awkwardness. "But you over-think the game. It's not chess, you know - you can't plan three moves ahead. You need to react more instinctively."

"So you're an expert now?"

"Well, I've sat through enough games… and training and tournaments and the blow by blow re-plays in the common room afterwards. You can't be a Quidditch groupie without learning the rules."

"Have you never wanted to play yourself?" Snape was curious.

"Me? Can you see me in Quidditch robes? Getting bashed about by Bludgers? No thank you. I'd rather watch and then pick up the pieces afterwards."

"Is that what you're doing now? Picking up the pieces? Forget it. Don't do me any favours."

At school Lily had always regarded Snape as something of a nit-picker, short-tempered and pedantic. She hadn't altered her opinion, but there was, she realised, another side to the coin: he was very intelligent and, being highly-strung, was sensitive to every nuance. If he weren't so touchy he'd make a stimulating companion - in small, measured doses. She wouldn't be able to put up with that caustic, cactus tongue for long. Since she'd been spending time with James and Sirius she'd become so used to hearing them refer to him as the 'slimy git' that she'd almost forgotten he might have a personality of his own.

She stared at him in confusion.

"To be honest, Snape, I don't know what I'm doing. All I know is we're here and we've got to make the best of it, whether you like it or not. I've no reason to hate you - I don't particularly like you much either - but if you despise me for what I am, then that's your problem - it's your loss. There's nothing I can do about it.

"Look, if you're right about James - and I'm not saying you are - about him plotting this farce, then all I can say is 'I'm sorry'. I'm sure he wouldn't have wanted you to get hurt. Not like this. There must have been some mistake. This ludicrous feud! It's pathetic! When we get back to Hogwarts, I want you to leave James to me. No, Snape, I mean it. I'll sort out James. Or were you planning to go running to Dumbledore?"

What would be the point? He'd never side with me against his favourite Gryffindor - the perfect, unimpeachable paragon, Potter. Snape could see it all: James would walk away from this scot free, just like he did last time, and the times before that…

"Are you listening, Snape? No grudge matches. How long are you going to go on taking pot shots at one another? One of these days one of you is going to get killed… Look, can we talk about something else?"

"Who says I want to talk?"

"Oh yes, I'd forgotten. It's ignominious for you to be hob-nobbing with the likes of me."

"You said it."

"You don't have to keep up appearances here - it's not as though they can see you, is it, - your Slytherin pals? They won't know. What's the penalty for fraternising with a Gryffindor? Honestly, Snape, I can't see why you hang out with that crowd - Avery, Wilkes and LeStrange. They're not your type."

Maybe not, but they're the only people in the school who don't treat me like shit - sly, self-serving, Slytherin shit.

"Just tell me this, Snape - what makes you and your Pureblood fanatics think you're so special? Can't you see it's all elitist nonsense?"

"It really bothers you, doesn't it?" The smirk conveniently veiled his misgivings.

"Yes. Yes it does. Shouldn't it? I'm not bothered for myself - I can fight my own battles; I've got nothing to be ashamed of. What really bothers me is how somebody as obviously intelligent as you can have got brainwashed by this Pureblood propaganda. The only thing that's pure about it is the prejudice. Sirius and James and Peter - and Remus - they're all from Pureblood families and they don't have a problem with me."

"Blood traitors!"

"What makes you so superior? You're no different from the rest of them. You're talking to me right now, aren't you?"

"Do I have any choice?"

It was Lily's turn to give him a patronising smile.

"D'you know, Snape, I think you're a fraud. I don't think you despise me at all. I think you like me and you're ashamed to admit it. It's an affectation. You claim to support these high-minded ideals about preserving the purity of Wizardry, but are you telling me…" She leaned closer to him. "…that if I took my blouse off right now, you wouldn't be interested?"

Snape's body needed little encouragement to betray his principles.

"You bitch!"

"Spell it with a 'W' if you don't mind," she retorted archly, pulling away again. "I'm disappointed in you, Snape. I've given you so many opportunities to be gallant… You could have said, "I don't despise you, Lily," or, "Lily, you're the exception that proves the rule," but no, you can't bring yourself to say it, can you? Would it kill you, for once in your life, to say something nice?"

It was a dangerous game and Lily knew it. Why was she teasing Snape? To get back at him? To show him what it was like to be on the receiving end for a change? Didn't that make her as much of a bully as James and Sirius? Because she knew he fancied her? Because she wanted to punish him for forcing her to question her relationship with James? Or simply because she could? What was she doing?

"Severus, that was unfair of me. I'm sorry."

Silence.

How very different it would be if it were James lying there instead of Snape. He would have allowed her to look after him, to show her compassion. He would have revelled in his wounded martyr routine and wallowed in her tender attention. Oh James was so wonderfully huggable!

The last thing Lily wanted to do was to hug Snape (for one thing, she was never quite convinced that he was properly clean; she couldn't help feeling that there was something slightly unwholesome about him), but she would have been kinder to him - if he wasn't so remote, so discouraging, so intent on keeping her at a distance, behaving as if all he wanted was for her to shut up and go away and leave him to suffer alone. Lily refused to believe that was what he really wanted. She touched him lightly on the shoulder. This time he didn't flinch.

"Try and go to sleep. You won't notice the pain so much if you're asleep."

Another age of silence passed before Snape answered. He sounded tired and fretful.

"I can't sleep. I can't get comfortable. The minute I stop bracing myself and relax I get these shooting pains… Can you just… keep talking?"

Keep talking? Lily pondered. There was something most incongruous about sitting in the dark, chatting to Severus Snape and sharing his cloak.

"I'll tell you someone who really is suave," she began, "I mean, not playing at it like Sirius, but the real McCoy. And that's your friend, Malfoy. Lucius Malfoy? I didn't really know him when he was at Hogwarts - I was a bit in awe of him, I think. He seemed so frightfully grown-up. He's got a real air of 'something' about him. Very - oh, I don't know - elegant, poised…"

"I'll tell him!"

"You'd better not! But don't you think he has a certain 'presence'? If you're looking for a style guru… I'm not talking about his politics - he's another of your misguided zealots, isn't he? But physically… If I were you, I'd model myself on him - you could do a lot worse. You need to start by standing up straighter. I know you're tall, but it doesn't mean you have to be round-shouldered. Walk tall!"

"If I ever walk again."

"Sorry, Snape. No self-pity permitted. Madame Pomfrey will fix you. No, she will - I've seen her mend all sorts of horrendous injuries. She knows her stuff. You mustn't worry." Her voice was calm, reassuring. "By this time tomorrow you'll have forgotten all about it."

That wasn't true. Neither of them would ever forget this day.

"I didn't realise you still kept in touch with Malfoy." Lily had seen the distress creeping into Snape's expression and she was anxious to distract him. "I saw you two together this afternoon in Hogsmeade."

"I met him for a drink." Snape was suddenly cagey again.

"I thought perhaps he'd come to offer you a job."

"What makes you say that?" he asked sharply.

"Oh, I don't know. But he's got contacts, hasn't he? Influential people, in the Ministry and so on? You'd do well to keep 'in' with people like that. So, if you're not working for Malfoy, what are you going to do - after NEWTs?"

"I haven't finalised my plans."

"Aha! You do have plans then? Let me guess - what are your best subjects? DADA? Potions? You could always teach…"

"There is absolutely no way that I'm going to become a teacher! Don't insult my intelligence. The sooner I see the back of Hogwarts the better. The way some of you talk you'd think that wretched school was the hub of the universe. There's a life outside Hogwarts, you know. You'll see, soon enough… What about you?"

Lily had the impression that he was deflecting the subject away from himself and his career.

"James and I have already applied for the Auror Training scheme. Sirius is thinking about it too, though, personally, I don't think he's got the self-discipline. I can't see him stuck in an office job either. I don't know what he'll end up doing."

"Gigolo? Playboy?"

"Watch it! He's my friend."

"Politician then. He's two-faced, insincere, unscrupulous and inordinately obsessed with his appearance and public image. The perfect candidate. You wait - he'll be the next Minister for Magic."

Lily smiled in spite of herself - it had never crossed her mind that Snape might have a sense of humour, even one as black and dry as soot. He always seemed so unremittingly joyless. Or had he not been joking? It was difficult to tell.

Snape's opinion of her also appeared to be undergoing some reassessment.

"Auror?" he expressed surprise. "That's a tough option. Dangerous too. It's a good way to lose your friends and make a lot of enemies."

Lily was wondering whether, after tonight, Snape would be included in her list of friends.

"Don't worry about me. I can handle it. I can do 'tough' when I have to."

Yes, Evans, I'm sure you can.

"Is there such a thing as a Wandless Warming Charm anyway?" she asked him, thinking of his earlier remark.

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe. Probably." He was vague. Since when had Severus Snape ever been vague? With a heavy sigh - half grunt, half groan – he let his head drop back onto his arm. Suddenly he looked very young, ill, miserable and terribly tired. Lily kept talking softly.

"We could do with that Charm now. Can you do any Wandless magic? I've always thought it should be a compulsory part of the curriculum - look at us - take our wands away and we're worse than Muggles. You should be good at it. I've read that wizards who excel at potions - and, come off it, if anybody does, it's you - tend to have an aptitude for working wandless. Or having telepathic skills - that's another indicator. It's all to do with channelling the magic, isn't it? Like 'intent'? I'm utterly hopeless at it. I'm pretty OK at Charms usually, but without a wand I'm sunk - like the proverbial drowned dragon. Although… No, never mind; you wouldn't want to know."

She reconsidered, undecided, torn, aware that this brief intimacy with Snape was, at best, temporary and artificial, notional even, a fragile meniscus whose surface tension would bear no weight.

"Know what? Let me be the judge of that." Curt again. Lily knew she had been right to be cautious. One should never take anything for granted with Snape. Inhaling a fortifying breath, she asked,

"Do you trust me?"

"Should I?" He was immediately wary, on his guard.

"I promise it's not a trick or anything. Severus, do you trust me not to hurt you?"

The dark eyes narrowed, clouding with suspicion and a hint of alarm.

"Do I get a say in this? If you think that just because I can't walk, I…"

"Shhh. It's nothing awful. It's something Madame Pomfrey taught me. It might help. But if you'd rather I didn't…"

With James it would have been a good-humoured, jaunty leap into the unknown, "Bring it on, baby! Do your worst!", but with Snape it was just that searching, probing stare which seemed to penetrate her very skull until, finally, his eyebrows lifted in a twitch that Lily took to signify assent.

"Show me where it hurts," she said gently.

One hand moved hesitantly to rest on his lower spine.

"This won't cure it or anything, but… The thing is, Severus," she explained, "you're all tensed up. Your muscles are in spasm, but they'll never get better when you're so tense. You've got to relax. Now, just a minute while I concentrate. I've got to focus. And remember, I'm not going to hurt you. Trust me. Shut your eyes."

Snape closed his eyes. Then he felt her hands - Healing hands - sliding under his waistband and resting very lightly just below the small of his back. A wonderful, soothing heat flooded his nerves, easing the pain.

"Try to relax," she whispered.

Relax? He was practically in bed with Lily Evans – Lily Evans! - and she had her hands in his trousers and she was telling him to relax?

When he woke up it was already daylight, and Lily had gone.

End of chapter.

Next chapter: CRUEL TO BE KIND. So is Lily a saint or a she-devil? Find out in the final instalment!

1 Woollongong Shimmy – zig-zag sideways avoidance manoeuvre (QTTA)

2 Translyvanian Tackle – attacking manoeuvre involving a feinting punch to the face (QTTA)