After the war

Harry found a supply of blood in a chest in the kitchen spelled to keep its contents cool. He wrinkled his nose as he broke the seal on the container and poured the viscous contentes into a goblet. With a flick of his wand he warmed the blood, and cast a charm to maintain the temperature.
He carried it carefully back into the other room, not wanting to spill any.
He put the goblet on the table infront of the sofa, and sat down beside the still figure. He needed him upright so that he wouldn't choke on the blood, Harry realized, so he pulled him upright, and slid in behind him, settling Severus's back against his chest, and his head on his shoulder.
With a shudder he dipped a finger into the blood and slipped it into Sev's mouth, rubbing the blood into his tongue. He repeated this action until he was rewarded with a soft sigh, and the feeling of the fangs extending beside his finger.
"Good Sev, good." He said quietly close to the other man's ear as he picked up the goblet and held it to the thin lips. It took ages, trickling the blood a little at a time into his mouth, and by the time the goblet was empty, the arm holding it ached, and the other was dead from the weight lying against him. Still he made sure to be very careful and gentle as he slipped out from behind him, settling him back against the cushions.
"Rest now." He said, making sure Severus was covered by the comforter.
He took the goblet back to the kitchen and washed it, throwing out the empty blood container and then he went back to the sitting room.
He flopped into the comfy armchair on the other side of the hearth from the sofa, and without the immediate adrenalin rush of needing to keep Severus alive, his own exhaustion carried him into a fortunately dreamless sleep.
When he woke next, he was puzzled to feel the weight of a blanket covering him. Opening his eyes, and straightening his glasses, he looked over at the sofa.
Severus was curled on his side under the comforter, but there was another blood coated goblet on the table, indicating that Severus had been up at some point while Harry slept.
Feeling pressure in his bladder, Harry stumbled, slightly unsteady on his feet to the bathroom. When he came back, Severus was sitting up, watching him.
Harry slowed briefly, but then carried on back to the armchair, wrapping himself in the blanket before slumping back down into the soft cushions.
"Are you feeling OK now?" He asked the potions professor quietly.
"Yes. Are you injured?"
"No, just tired and aching."
"I will give you something for that shortly. How did we end up back here?"
"I apperated us here after the battle. It was the only safe place I could think of."
"The main wards are gone, I can't feel them anymore."
"Yeah, I figured that when we appeared in the entrance hall. I guess it must be because...." Harry couldn't say it. Saying it would make it true, and he didn't want to face that yet.
"Albus and Minerva are gone, aren't they?" Severus asked softly.
"Everyone is gone." Harry whispered, unable to hold back harsh, wracking sobs.
He felt strong arms close around him, and dampness on his neck made him realize that Severus was in tears too.
Harry wrapped his own arms around the other man, and they clung together, crying in shared pain.

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Thanks to Crimson Vipera for the spell check, but you know, those postal workers are an evil bunch, using their secret language to lull us into a false sense of security that our Christmas parcels will arrive on time and unscathed.
Seriously though, you are concerned that so many characters have been killed off, but if they hadn't, Harry and Sev wouldn't have been thrown together the way they had been. Someone else would have been looking after Sev, Harry certainly wouldn't have slashed his arm to feed him, and assuming that Harry had told his friends that he had feelings for 'the greasy git', they would have been unlikely to encourage him to persue someone so much older. This way, they have no one but each other to turn to.