She was a dragon, like most creatures that fluttered into the library. There were only a few, butterflies, horseflies, a few hummingbirds; some who even allowed races across shelves and wing comparison (not all hummingbirds were solitary scholars) but mostly the ones who went into the library were dragons.

The librarians hated that, you see dragons (and book-dragons especially) get very attached to good plot lines or ones that have lovely voices that whisper all the time. When I say attached, I mean literally. Dragons, small though they are, can wrap themselves so firmly about a book that it can often take years for them to untangle themselves. Why don’t you try getting a two foot long, fire-breathing lizard off a tome and see how easy it is?

At any rate, Lia wasn’t just a book-dragon; she was a bookworm too. She would find herself most evenings wrapped up around a large fantasy or horror novel, her opalescent scales glowing delightfully in the moonlight that frittered in through the window and her horizontal eyelids shut tight against the night.

Her favorite book was The Book of Gods, or The Tibetan Book of the Dead, or Watermelon Sugar, or the Annotated Poe; it was hard to decide. She could always be found squirmed in and around the stories, letting the words infect her dreams with brilliant images and perfect voices.

Lia loved books, she loved books more than she loved the way her wings were tinted so that one side refracted light and the other was see-through (this was an uncommon trait in most dragons). She loved books more than her talent for writing in flame, or her jade-colored eyes, or even her tail, which was longer than her body by a good inch and that she had quite a skill for swishing. She loved words more than all of her arrogance.

Which was why, one Thursday afternoon, she was more than a little irritated to be awoken by someone trying to open her book. Well, it was her book, wasn’t it? She’d slept on it enough; someone ought to know that if a dragon’s on a book, the book ought not to be touched.

“Can I help you?” She opened one eyelid a fraction of an inch, gazing lazily at the adolescent human before her. It looked taken aback. Lia was trying to remember the defining lines between a human male and a human female.

“I wanted that book,” Said the human. Lia blinked back a couple times. Was it serious? Did it really think she was going to give up her sleeping place and one of her dearest friends just because some human wanted it? The dragon gave a little huff of a snort and closed her eye again.

“I’m using it.”

“But - ” It paused. Not in an unsure way, but the falter sounded a bit more contemplative, like the human had to think its words out very carefully before saying them. This made the dragon slide back the membrane behind her eyelids and peer at the human in an under-handed, you-can’t-see-me-but-I-can-see-you sort of way, “I need it.”

Oh, how eloquent.

Lia looked at the human some more, getting in some good suspense, but also taking her time. Now that she was going to engage the human in actual conversation, she should at least figure out its gender.

The human was tall; then again everyone was tall to Lia, who only stood about six inches at the shoulder. But it seemed a bit tall for the age she guessed it was, which was about ten or eleven. Its hair was black, and the eyes were green like she expected a dragon’s to be. The trouble was that the human’s features were so indistinct, it could’ve been either male or female. So she went by voice pattern and body shape, and both of those pointed to the masculine spectrum.

“OK, boy-o, I’ll make you a deal.” The dragon slid open both luminescent eyes and raised her miniature, horse-like head. She inclined it thoughtfully, eyes-wide and intelligent; she was trying to intimidate him slightly – knee-jerk reaction when it came to humans. “I’ll let you have this book for your shoulder.”

The shoulder was turned towards the sun, and as Lia was trying to assess a gender, she realized how very soft and wonderful it looked. Especially if the human was going for a walk. She could curl up nicely and nap in the sun with a comfortable walking sway beneath her. She thought it was a good deal.

The human looked confused. Lia did not understand why. He looked as if she’d asked him to do something very strange and unnatural and he wasn’t sure how to respond. Lia felt her offer was very straightforward, but then, it should be mentioned that that’s just how dragons think.

“My shoulder?” The boy questioned.

“It looks…” Lia replied slowly. A forked tongue slipped beneath her teeth in an anxious gesture and ran over her nose and snout, “Comfortable.” She decided finally.

“What are you going to do with it?” The human child questioned, looking a mite uncertain, which was rather intense emotion for the thus far, straight-faced creature.

Lia looked appalled, something that the boy probably didn’t recognize as dragon expressions look vastly different than human ones. Her ears perked and her eyelids narrowed. So as not to seem too rude she fought away the hiss gathering in her throat.

“Sit on it,” She snapped, “What did you think I was going to do, lop it off and hang it on the wall?”

The human’s mouth opened. Lia thought – and this was an entirely natural thought for a little book-dragon like herself – that perhaps something interesting like fire or tentacles; maybe even a tongue, might come out. But the lips snapped shut again and the dragon was a bit disappointed. The boy shook his head as if to help swallow whatever he didn’t want erupting from the once open mouth.

“If I let you sit on my shoulder,” said he, and Lia didn’t like the way he spoke. It was either deep in his own thoughts, or very condescending. Either one she didn’t like. The former didn’t give her enough attention and the latter gave her precisely the wrong kind. “You’ll let me have that book.”

“That’s what I said yes.” She answered testily. She wished he would just make up his mind about it. Her tail uncurled from page 28 of Egypt Uncovered and a twitched eagerly. The human gave a little half-hearted shrug and said,

“Fine.”

In an instant, Lia unfurled herself from the pages. Her body was shaped vaguely like a lizard, ever so slightly like a horse, and was mostly reminiscent of a snake. She leapt lithely away from her previous bed and with a flutter of leathery wings, curled complacently upon the human’s shoulder. He hefted the book in his arms and began walking away.

“What’s your name boy-o?” The dragon asked in a sleepy voice. She had no intention of ever using it but it seemed polite to ask.

“Seth” was the answer, “And may I inquire as to what your name is?” If Lia knew much about humans other than the physical appearance and the newly acquired knowledge of how comfortable shoulders can be, she might have thought it strange that an eight-year-old boy used words like that.

“Amylia,” She said eventually, then added threateningly, “And I’ll give you a great nasty scorch mark if you ever call me that. It’s Lia to you boy.”

“Can you really breathe fire?” The boy inquired next and there was that strange glimpse of actual emotion again. Lia hesitated, probably a bit too long. Breathing fire was not something all dragons did and certainly not something a book-dragon would ever dream of developing. But Lia liked fire so long as it was far away from her precious library.

“Maybe,” She replied unevenly. If she were the type, she would’ve bit her tongue. But that was something humans joked about and only birds and cats ever did. The former usually only when chewing a mouthful of food for its young and the latter because it didn’t hurt when done on purpose and the well-acted mewing that ensued got lots of attention and sympathy; sometimes a shrimp. Also, dragons have fangs and it’s instilled from a young age that impaling one’s tongue should be avoided.

“Prove it, Amylia.”

Such an insolent tone! Lia was appalled. And not only that, she was insulted. Had she not warned the boy? Had she not made her wishes clear? Well, apparently not. The dragon curled her tail angrily and tightened the muscles in her chest. She felt the hydrogen gas gathering in her the small air sacs behind her lungs; sandwiched beside the heart. She licked her lips and teeth as the gas rose through her throat.

Lia exhaled sharply through her nose, aiming for Seth’s hand. A burst of orange flame shot from her nostrils and centered squarely on his first knuckle, leaving a light burn as it frittered out.

((Yeah, I should probably do something more with this but I'm way too lazy))