The Prophet Pioneer || Marlene

CRACK! Jack heard the sound of the bludger and instantly ducked, even though he knew that it probably wasn’t coming his way. He had never really liked the sport - sure, it made for good pictures and stories for the paper - but when it came to playing? Jack Campbell was pretty sure that he was afraid of breaking his precious little nose. He was pretty sure that the very fact that he had just taking a picture of her had already pissed her off. ‘What did you expect, Jack? A friendly greeting and an offer for tea?’ He laughed slightly to himself at the thought and then took another picture of her, somehow managing to capture all the annoyance that she felt about him in a few quick frames. That was what he loved most about the camera - it allowed him to capture those rare moments so that he could relive them over and over again to his heart’s content, ”Jeez, McKinnon! Cool those Scottish jets of yours. You’re going to give yourself an aneurism.”

Jack raised both of his eyebrows at her, he had been expecting retaliation, but it appeared as if Marlene was in even a worse mood than he had anticipated. Immediately he was regretting his decision to try and piss her off even more than she had been before and laughed uneasily, running a hand through his short hair as he attempted to look away from that piercing gaze of hers.

Okay, so in hind-sight, Jack wasn’t sure that he should have gone with the classic ‘we’re friends right?’ approach. It was honestly a little too much of a stretch and Marlene had personally taken it upon herself to debunk the myth that Jack was trying to falsify between them. He rolled his eyes as she called him hot-shot, that was hardly a fitting nickname, ”C’mon Marls, don’t be such a prick. He muttered underneath his breath. She had a point though; it seemed as if every time that they saw each other, one of them had a piss-poor attitude. And the other one always found it necessary to poke and prod at their internal wounds until they snapped. It was like a game of causal cat and mouse between them. 

He realized that by further infuriating her, she wasn’t going to necessarily be forthcoming with the interview and wondered for a second if he should back off a little bit. He took another photo, catching the confusion that was written all over her face. Perhaps the wink had been a little too much. He didn’t want Marlene freaking McKinnon thinking that he was actually going soft for her. He finally put the camera down, content that it was for good this time....But the reaction that he got to calling her darling was enough to make him grin wickedly and want to do it even more, ”I am, in fact, quite man. For you." He said, his voice full of rich and dripping sarcasm.



He sat down on the ground and leaned back slightly, so that he could still see Marly even though he was in the lower position. He wanted to make sure that she didn’t plan on doing something crazy to him while he sat on the ground.


”I swear," Jack finally breathed, trying to keep his cool. There was something about Marlene that made him feel like he was on edge all the time. How was he supposed to write a piece about her when he could barely stand to be in the same room as her? He put the camera down on the grass next to him and reached into his satchel bag and pulled out his notepad and a quill, ”I need to ask you a few questions for a...well a project. I’ll ask my questions and then I’ll get out of your hair, Scout’s honor." He flipped through a few of the first pages of the notepad which had already been written on - he had been taking extensive notes about what he knew about Marlene and honestly, if someone had found the notepad, they would have thought that it was a very sad and very desperate diary, detailing Jack’s obsession with Marlene McKinnon. But that was far from the truth. It was just him trying to work out what he was going to write. Being on a dead-line did him no good. In fact, it made him feel as if every time he sat down to write it was going to turn out even worse than when he had started. Hopefully this interview would at least go well...then he would have something to write about.


”First question-" Jack knew that he was about to perhaps get himself into even more trouble than he had been before with the camera, ”Would you consider yourself a good beater for Gryffindor?" He laughed as he looked at her and then realized that she still had the bat and the bludger within reach and decided that he was probably going to get himself hurt if he continued down this path. Immediately he covered up his laugh with a slight cough and tried to look like the serious reporter that he was trying to be.

Jack raised both of his eyebrows, not surprised that she had heard him throwing insults under his breath; after all, it wasn’t uncommon for the pair of them to constantly be at each other’s throats. Reaching up, he put his hand in front of his mouth and faked a cough, trying to act as if he had said nothing of the sort. However, as soon as he pulled his hand away, there were traces of his signature smirk written all over his face. Those light eyes of his were sparkling with delight, knowing full-well that he had probably upset her. And - even though he was attempting to be civil for the sake of the interview - he couldn’t help but be strangely satisfied with a job well-done.

He wasn’t surprised that she was actively countering his sarcasm, in fact, he had all but expected it out of her. He was prompting her anger and he knew it, but for some reason, he just couldn't get himself to stop. Making Marly angry was about as pleasurable as taking pictures sometimes. Plus, he throughly enjoyed the way that her face got all red and flustered when he had her at an impasse. ”Out of my league?” Jack turned his head slightly to the side, trying to hide the smirk that was ever growing on his face, ”If I recall, you were the one that’s always begging for me to take your picture at the Gryffindor parties.” He finally turned back to face her and looked at her with a slightly bemused expression, ”Come now, lover-divine. Don’t put yourself up there on a pedestal where you don’t belong.” He rocked back and forth on his bottom and then settled somewhere in the middle, pulling the notebook that he carried around slightly closer at hand before he started his questioning.

She was laughing - not with him, for he wasn’t chucking at all - she was laughing at him. ‘Was that that stupid of a question?’ he asked himself, feeling slightly put off by the scene that was in front of him. He hadn’t, in all honesty expected her to be so...vocal about her distaste of the interview questions. Because of how uncomfortable he was, Jack picked up the camera and took a shot of her lying on the ground, practically laughing her arse off. It was an unflattering shot to say the least, but perhaps one that might do the article some good. People deserved to see how...interesting Marly could be. He laughed slightly at himself, trying his best to ignore her chortling.

He set the camera down on the grass next to him and picked up his quill again, eagerly scribbling down ‘McKinnon might be certifiably crazy’. He was - however - listening to her and the things that she was saying, because on the next line, he was back to taking notes about the scottish fire-pixie of a woman that sat in front of him.

If there was one thing that Jack knew about writing an article, it was that he had to have quotes upon quotes straight from the mouth of the target. Or at least, that was what was important to the Prophet. That was why Raven Monroe was so good at her job - the woman practically dragged secrets and scandals out of people, only to chop them up into tiny little pieces and put them into her articles in whatever fashion she deemed fit. That was exactly what Jack was determined to do, ”Seriously? I don’t know what pro-team would want to hire a fiery, temperamental, rage-a-holic scottish bi-” Jack immediately clamped his mouth shut, realizing what he was saying was quite unprofessional. If he was trying to have a proper interview with someone, he probably shouldn’t have chosen the woman that pushed practically every button in his miserable existence, ”I mean-” Jack took a deep breath, trying to gain back the ground that he quite possibly already lost, ”Auror. That’s a pretty big deal. Someone aspiring to something so great must have excellent marks in all of their courses, right?” He looked up from the notepad that he had been staring at previously, attempting to give his best puppy dog face to the blonde that sat in front of him.