Hey guys!
So, I'm sort of back into writing fanfics, though I'm only going to concentrate on one at a time... such as focusing on this one right now. I'm rewriting it, in case you've seen it before.
Why am I writing this? Mostly for new authors reference... mostly for those who hate Mary Sues... and mostly for entertainment.

Chapter One

"I'll be back," he said hesitantly. His hands lingered over mine before he pulled away. I could see the doubt and despair flash through his emerald eyes before he turned his face away from me, and I wanted to pull him back, beg him, but I knew Harry. He was a hero.

How did I get here? Well, my name is Destiny Sapphire Jaderina Kaifira Waterfield, and I should backtrack to the beginning of it all.

I was born middle-class, to a father who was always working and a mother who wasn't exactly motherly. I never received candy or hugs or kisses. She even told me that hugs bugged her and kisses repulsed her. I didn't know the meaning of affection. I only found it through love... but we're not there yet.

I was born a pretty child. Jet-black, silky hair that I always allowed to grow long until the wavy tresses reached past my waist. I was always told I was cute, with a doll's face: large almond-shaped eyes, arched eyebrows, a button nose, and round, rosy cheeks. I had a fair, gold complexion with a dash of freckles across the bridge of my nose. I had grown up slender and willowy. For some reason, this made people believe I was a snob, someone to be shoved around, someone to put in her place. I grew up sad and lonely, though despite this I kept myself cheerful and sweet.

I suppose people grew jealous of me, for I was extremely talented, especially in the arts. Singing, dancing, drawing, badminton, swimming, cooking, climbing, all of it, and I wish to get into fencing if I could. I'm flexible and am interested in practically everything and -

"DESTALIE!"

Destalie, most commonly known as Dessie, looked up from the pink, fuzzy notebook she was writing in with a glitter gel pen and frowned. She could recognize her older sister's outraged voice from anywhere.

She picked herself up from lying on her belly on the floor. "What is it, Jane?" she asked in a soft voice, looking upwards with slightly widened eyes for the innocent doe-eyed look. While it mollified her angry mother and charmed teachers, it only seemed to fuel Janine about whatever she was raging about. As she looked into Janine's narrowed eyes, she criticized herself for forgetting.

"You - left - your - towel - on - the floor - again," Janine, most commonly known as Jane, seethed through clenched teeth. "Good grief, Destalie! Even my towel fell, and you didn't even bother to pick it up! And you spilled water all over the bathroom floor again!"

Dessie lowered her gaze. "I'm sorry, Jane," she said sincerely. Whenever Jane used her full name, she was spitting fire. Each word was shot from her lips like a bullet from a musket. "I'll remember next time."

Jane threw her hands up in exasperation. "That's what you said last time!" she yelled.

"Jane! No raised voices inside!" her mother's shout was heard from down the hallway in the small apartment.

Dessie inwardly smiled at the hypocrisy, though Jane screamed back, "You hypocrite! You raise your voice all the time!"

"NOT IN THE HOUSE!"

"THIS ISN'T EVEN A BLOODY HOUSE! KEEP YOUR BUYING-A-HOUSE FANTASIES TO YOURSELF!"

"Jane, you're bringing up non-relevant -"

"DO I LOOK LIKE I CARE?" Jane screamed in her face. She marched to the couch, picked up a pillow, and banged it against the couch before hurling it at Dessie. It bounced off the surprised girl harmlessly, but Dessie stared at Jane with a hurt expression. Jane barely looked at her little sister before sprinting down the hallway into the room on the other side.

Dessie's hurt and spurt of anger at Jane's temper tantrum quickly drained out of her when she recognized Jane's behavior. The teenager often flew headfirst into waves of different moods, sometimes jumping about cheerfully and slamming into doorways with a big smile, sometimes moping about in a depressed manner, and sometimes just angrily storming about with every little thing ticking her off. Dessie, as a little sister, understood. It helped her not to hold a grudge against Jane.

She picked up the pillow and set it on the couch again before turning and slumping against it with her notebook and pen in hand.

Time to return to her fanfiction.

Her obsession, in both reading and writing it, came from a friend's recommendation to the site. Dessie spent every spare moment either reading or writing the stuff - she considered herself to be growing very talented at writing, especially descriptions. She picked up her pen and twirled it thoughtfully between her fingers. It was easier, she reflected, to inject herself into the story. All she had to do was look in the mirror for reference to describe the main character. Then, it was like experience the dreams of the world of Harry Potter, Percy Jackson, Katniss Everdeen, and all her other favorite characters through writing, because she could do things in her stories that she couldn't really in real life, like cast spells or block a spell on the blade of a dagger, the angle perfect to reflect it back in the face of the attacker.

Dessie grinned at her notebook, twirled her pen, and set to writing.

She only managed to jot down a few words before Jane was back. It was clear the teen had calmed down, for she walked quietly with a remorseful look on her face. "What are you writing?" was her apology.

Despite this, Dessie beamed and turned the word-filled page towards Jane. Jane curiously took the notebook and read the glittery green words. She made a face.

"Mary Sue," she said. "Good grief, Dessie. Purple prose? Clumsy attempts at pity? What are you attempting?"

Dessie's smile slithered off her face. She shouldn't had hoped. She gently pried her notebook from Jane's fingers and held it protectively against her chest. "A story," she said slowly.

"A horrible story, apparently, clearly based off of the Harry Potter story line. I get that you want to be a writer, Des, but think of something original! You're always making something into a fan-fiction!"

It hurt. Dessie, despite all of Jane's strange and wild quirks, loved her older sister as she should, and it hurt to frequently anger or disappoint her. It was ever since Jane officially became a teenager at the age of thirteen. Before then, Jane wasn't in particular close to Dessie, but wasn't always cracking down on her either. Jane had always been a withdrawn loner in her own world. Dessie had hoped that their shared love of fiction could bring them together, but Jane was either bashing the book Dessie loved or explaining something Dessie couldn't quite understand in Jane's elaborate ways of thinking.

The accusation of Dessie turning things into fan-fiction was slightly true. Dessie, deeply influenced by movies and books, often took aspects of them and inserted them into writing, art, or games. One time Jane got upset about was a role-playing game they were playing with paper cranes Jane had folded, for Dessie had used the story from Barbie in Mariposa to sculpt the entire plot of the role-play. Although Dessie had twisted it to fit their version, Jane hated it, and by the time they were nearing the conclusion she set down her crane and angrily declared that she wasn't playing anymore.

Dessie was about to defend herself when she noticed something about Jane. "Jane! Your hair!"

"What about it?"

"It's short!"

The corner of Jane's lips turned up, and she flipped her cropped hair. The dark brown locks barely brushed her shoulder. "Yep. Easier to manage and still easy to tie up in a ponytail." It was clear Jane had missed Dessie's look of horror and dismay.

"You cut it yourself just now?"

"Mom helped me at first. Then I got mad at her and finished cutting it myself."

Dessie wondered if that was what Jane had been mad about earlier. How could she had not noticed it before? Jane's hair had always been cropped short - for convenience, Jane had always said - though it had fallen past her shoulder blades before this recent cut. Dessie always considered the longer the hair the prettier, so she had never found Jane's hair cuts particularly good-looking.

"Why don't you cut your hair, Des?"

Dessie gripped her hair protectively. Her hair, as she wrote it in her story, was black and lengthy. She was lucky to have wavy hair, so it always fell down her back like a waterfall.

"Never mind," Jane grumbled, looking annoyed once more. She thrust the notebook at Dessie. "As long as you don't publish it, what you call a story is fine. In your own head."

Dessie blinked after her, unsure whether to be hurt or angry. Blunt or sharp, Jane had the "honesty is the best policy" as her motto. Of course, the only people that felt the cutting edge of her tongue were her family. Jane didn't talk much otherwise.

She sighed and rubbed her eyes. Standing up, Dessie walked over to the window and peeked out into the dark night sky, hand on the blinds to close them. Stars glimmered from their scattered places like sequins randomly tossed upon a blanket. She looked down at her notebook, thinking about all seven books of the Harry Potter series. I wish...

A/N: End of Chapter One.
So, feel free to review, favorite, follow, I'll be happy to read any comments about this. Of course, it's just the beginning and introducing the two characters and whatnot.

Also, I've been reading fics making fun of Mary Sues by writing a mocking fic that has a Sue in it and writing out the story. Mary Sues were portrayed as superficial and annoying teenager brats, obviously so. Actually, real Mary Sues are pretty subtle, like Bella Swan from Twilight, and their perfection isn't as blaring, which is how they get around. I recall a Mary Sue I created when I was Dessie's age, a good-at-everything, highly intelligent, kind, wise, knowledgeable about the future but keeping it a secret, giving Draco a second change, girl. Mary Sue, right? They aren't just beautiful and graceful - they are "loved" because they are kind and gentle and wise for their age and whatnot, not only in the center of attention and hating certain people. They are like this because authors who are learning to write think that these characters are lovable and are trying to make them "good" by making them too good. Of course, they make the story bland because of no character development, no interesting choices, no particularly notable personality traits that set them apart as an individual...
So, that's my Dessie. That kind, pretty girl. Who's a perfect Mary Sue. Who won't do anything wrong, will fix everything, won't get so mad she does something she regrets or anything. Based after my dog. Not joking.