Luckily, Emma had given him enough time to get changed. His gardening clothes seemed the best for this operation: old, stained jeans and a t-shirt, all a little loose from the days before he'd lost the baby weight. He wasn't really looking forward to tracking down the cat and giving it a bath, but he wasn't going to run it off if he could deal with it. Neville wasn't looking for a pet, but he didn't like the idea of abandoning an animal. Either he'd take it in or he'd find a home for it.
Neville was hanging around in the kitchen, considering the options for dinner when he heard the knock on the door. He'd probably just have to apparate somewhere for take-away; he was a lousy cook and there was really nothing there to cook. He headed for his front door and smiled at Emma on the steps. "Come in." He let her inside.
The house was small and neat; Neville kept it up thanks partly to constantly having political advisers and campaigners dropping by, and partly due to the threat of his grandmother. Augusta still had no problems scolding her grandson when she saw fit. Still, there were files spread everywhere in the room he used as a study, and the house, as a whole, had a distinctly rented feel. He was occupying it, but he hadn't made it his own, other than some plants in the kitchen and the second bedroom converted into a study. "So, it's... not much, but it works. What's all that you're carrying?" he asked, belatedly reaching to take some of it for her.