A shadow passed over James's face at the mention of the Dursley grandparents. He wasn't entirely certain he wanted to let himself get angry in front of Harry. James had always hated it when his father was angry, and it had only ever made James sympathetically angry as well. For his own part, James hadn't ever really done much that had inspired his father's actual temper. Better to shelve that, maybe, until James was a bit sedated with a few shots of something very strong. Some people got feisty when they drank, some people just went to sleep, and James just got very amiable.
"Shut it," James chided with a grin. "It's the seventies-- or it was, all of ten minutes ago. Everybody out there 'discovering themselves'? Everybody's... feeling what they're feeling in one way or another." Ah, hippies. James loved them, he really did. Kindred spirits, really, apart from the railing against the establishment. There needed to be some sort of establishment, James just wanted it to be one that worked. Not one that sat around while murderous psychos tried to take over everything.
"And don't get me wrong-- there is virtually nothing you can do to make her see reason." In James's great wealth of experience, that was a lost cause. With and woman. "But of course, you have to go running after her. Only, in a way that doesn't sound quite so emasculating." After all, when all was said and done, if she could respect a guy, there wasn't much point. Pursuit was fine, but being a doormat most certainly was not. "A war of relentless attrition worked out pretty well for me with your mum, but you've got to maintain some level of pride, you know? Because if you're the bloke for her? And you know it? You can't let her go. Figuratively. Physically, no, you've got to let her do whatever she's doing. But that doesn't mean you shouldn't do everything in your power to remind her of why she went for you in the first place. I mean, it's not like you tricked her into marrying you, right?"